


Layers

by orphan_account



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James re-evaluates his initial assumptions of Kaidan</p><p>*</p><p>~James doesn’t think he would be such, to look at him from the surface, that such warm, honey coloured eyes could be an absolute beast on the field, the calm demeanour never giving away Alenko’s assurance, the most unsuspecting man, and a fellow Spectre, standing as tall by Shepard, as her equal~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Layers

 

**I: Disloyal**

  
  
_James hears about that, little bits of information trickling down through the top brass, glimpses he gets from a few official reports he sneaks peeks at to glance through hurriedly while watching over Shepard’s house arrest, muted whispers through the vine about a particular encounter of two factions that aren’t meant for his ears; Horizon._   
  
_He doesn’t have all the details, but he knows enough; Shepard, the great fucking Commander Shepard, miraculously coming back from the dead, some Cerberus science mumbo-jumbo magic putting her broken body back together against all odds, a shining marvel arisen all on her own, so incredible James can scarcely believe it for himself. Shepard, stripped of the Alliance, disappearing for two years and then coming back into everyone’s lives to jump straight into battling the Collectors, like she never left at all. Shepard, asking for help, after saving an entire damned colony, only to be refused, called out on her humanity, on her motivations, on her legibility and whatever else. James prickles at the thought, grinding rows of his teeth against each other, because she had been out there, off the radar and taking all the risks for everyone else, literally storming to the fight, storming right to the door step of those Collector bastards, but Commander Alenko had flat out told her to piss off, refusing to help, washing hands off her to let her be on her own, even if she had been fighting for all of them._   
  
_Commander Alenko._

  
  
Commander Alenko is _Major_ Alenko now.  
  
James can see his allegiance to the Alliance written all over, logo stamped proudly on his armour, never seeming to be scratched off no matter how many fire fights he has been in, scratches on the matte blue never seeming to creep onto the crest on his chest. James sees Alenko’s pure anger as they come face to face with Cerberus troopers on Mars, his actions fiery and harsh, spitting, almost like their presence a personal insult to him and his principles. The Lieutenant can only imagine the amount of courage it must have taken to stare down the person he was – _is_ , he corrects himself - in love with, the same person marching under the proudly hoisted up banners of a terrorist organisation, look into their eyes and say _no_ , even if his heart aches for the opposite. Alenko’s duty, the staunch belief in his work and morals rushing through his veins that he simply couldn’t do anything but the opposite, couldn’t throw away everything he worked for in those two years to pack up and leave his post to compromise on them, or on Shepard.  
  
Major Alenko. Quite probably the only other person apart from the Commander that Admiral Anderson shows open affection for, if James considers what he remembers from the brief mad rush on Earth that sent his head spinning with dread at the nightmares descending from drab, grey skies;  _‘’Kaidan!’’_ , Anderson had called over their comms when the invasion started, his voice choked with fear and desperation when frequencies were getting broken and static filled their ears, reaper forces drowning out himself and Alenko with their unnatural groaning. Admiral Anderson really admires the Major, that much, James knows, admires him through all the bullshit that went down inbetween those years, through Shepard’s death and resurrection, through his emotional ties to the Commander, and Admiral Anderson himself is... well, _awesome_ , the Lieutenant thinks.  
  
Major Alenko is also a Spectre now, which,  _woah,_ James reflects, because this is the same guy he used to think was completely negligent. The Lieutenant also knows, during the attempted coup of the Citadel, catching everything just as well from his vantage point, the ardent figure standing protectively in front of the Council members, his gun steadily drawn on the Commander. Shepard and Alenko, tightly facing each other, strained dialogue tinged with just a bit of pleading and trust to see it from their end, and Alenko takes a deep breath, turns around, his vulnerable back willingly exposed to anyone who could just as easily have seriously wounded him, or put him down completely while he has his gaze locked elsewhere, not paying attention to what they’re doing. It becomes clear to James then, the Lieutenant raising his eyebrows at the change in stance with a mere exchange of words and soulful eyes silently begging him to understand; Alenko’s pure faith in Shepard, requiring nothing more than a solid handful of reconnected hope in what they mean to each other, whatever that meaning may be.

 

  
  
**II: Weak**

  
  
_A teacher._

_Major Alenko is a goddamned teacher, heading over a bunch of kids from some department James doesn’t know, much less care about, and it’s so hilarious to him that this soldier whom Shepard places so much value on is one, that the Lieutenant thinks he can laugh out loud at that. In fact, he does, chuckling to himself while he maintains the guns in the armoury, ready to head out next directly into the frontlines to do his job the way he knows he’s good at. James visualises Alenko in his head, standing with his group of students, painstakingly imparting all kinds of theoretical knowledge while wrapped up in the safety of being surrounded by four walls and a holo-board with endless running lines. Reading stacks of datapads, learning moves and tactics but hardly testing them out on the field, away from all the combat where they can put their skills to use, Alenko’s dull voice teaching various factors about whatever fucking branch of biotics he is in charge of._   
  
_James huffs, because what an absolutely cushy gig for anyone to land on, the cushiest gig for any soldier to convince themselves they’re doing their part for the war effort by babysitting some gifted teenagers, the perfect illusion of security, away from all the dangers while people get meaninglessly slaughtered outside their precious classes. Alenko is surely and comfortably cocooned in his own little world, rusty from time away from what really matters, handle on the real deal already a smaller footnote in the back of his mind._

 

Heavy armour resting on a toned body, his rifle held steadily in callused, battle hardened hands which seem to know exactly what must be done. Alenko moves with a certain air of confidence on the field, strong legs carrying his body forward as he keeps an eye on his wrist while he simultaneously manages to work on his omni-tool, the rapid flashes of orange glows on his forearm causing shields to spark out and turrets to explode before James can get a shot in. That same omni-tool which Shepard blindly relies on without unease, trusting Alenko to dig his way through systems and computer programmes where the Commander is untrained for, as she and James cover Alenko’s six, seeing circuits coming apart under his skilled fingers like it takes almost no effort on his part as Shepard doesn’t spare a single glance back at him to wonder if he has it under control, because she instinctively knows he definitely does.  
  
James sees how bullets from Alenko’s favoured rifle, the light Vindicator, find themselves lodged into the heads of their enemies, sees how the Major adjusts for movement or wind conditions, his awareness never once failing him, or failing Shepard and James. Alenko ignores hits to his own armour, never complains even once, taking everything in stride instead like he’s so used to it working by Shepard’s side from their chase for Saren, doing what he can to keep close by the Commander’s side as much as he’s able to. James doesn’t think he would be such, to look at him from the surface, that such warm, honey coloured eyes could be an absolute beast on the field, the calm demeanour never giving away Alenko’s assurance, the most unsuspecting man, and a fellow Spectre, standing as tall by Shepard, and as her equal.  
  
The same warm, honey coloured eyes which levels James onto the training mat, hard enough the Lieutenant has to blink and shake his head to clear his vision when the air sprints out his lungs, back colliding on the padding. Alenko moves with as much grace here as well, as strong as he is without armour as he is in it, the Major’s sharp knee in James’ ribs and forearm against his throat for the briefest of moments before letting up, holding out a hand as a friendly offer to yank James up. The Lieutenant can hear Steve laughing quietly behind him - he’s not looking forward to the teasing from the pilot later - while Shepard is standing in front of him, leaning against the work bench leisurely like she’s having the time of her life, with her arms crossed over her chest and her dark eyes lit up, scorching as she tracks the Major’s moves flowing around James, not bothering to hide the pleased smirk on her face while she takes in the scene which has played out before her, obviously very much appreciating said Major in a sweaty and fitting t-shirt going through the paces.  
  
Alenko’s hand wavers slightly in front of his face as James remains heaving, flat on his back and glaring back, causing the heavy brows to start to knit the longer James eyeballs him. It’s a show put on just for the Commander as both James and Alenko have a go at one another for whatever reason the Lieutenant isn’t sure of yet, because he doesn’t know where the dislike exactly stems from, brain confused and trying to backtrack to form a neat path where he can take the walk again to arrive at the same decision, the decision he is struggling to hold. The Major’s hand hovers, it isn’t just there to help James back up on his feet after a little fist fight, no, he’s offering more, to fix the tension which James created in his head, sitting like a block of granite between them without reason or purpose. James decides then he’s going to accept it, smashing the block to pieces and throwing out a shit eating grin, stretching the cut on his lip where Alenko’s knuckles made good contact, and the Lieutenant licks away the blood while smirking, ‘’Not bad, Major. Went easy on you.’’  
  
James grasps the outstretched hand, both their sweat sliding on their forearms when he curls fingers just under his elbow, uncaring of the slick, and Alenko? Alenko smiles back exactly like James knew he would, pulling the Lieutenant up with ease and clapping him on the shoulder with his other hand, still annoyingly gracious as ever. _Fucker_ , James mulls, but it’s carrying an entirely different connotation than what he used for in his head for Alenko before.

 

 

  
**III: Unreliable**

  
  
_James remembers reading about the infamous L2s, poor bastards never knowing when they could snap and start painting the walls red when they take their fancy, snapping when you least expect it because something in their head finally cracks, letting loose their biotics, washing over and crippling everything in their path, no matter whether they hold that dear to their hearts or not. There’s just no way of knowing, no way to be sure what is going to happen or when, that James feels uncomfortable with the notion at the back of his mind, constantly overlooking his shoulder when it occurs to him to put his worries to rest._   
  
_The Lieutenant spots Alenko huddled in the med-bay through the windows from his position in the mess hall, with Shepard sitting practically fused to him inches away, her fingers rubbing into the Major’s temples in slow, circular motions to soothe his incessant scrunching of his face, trying her best to smooth away the frown lines entrenched deep on Alenko’s forehead as the implant wrecks havoc in his brain. James had caught the painful, clenched look on the Major’s earlier, his knuckles trailing the Normandy’s hull as he attempted to walk carefully with his eyes shut tight, banking on his feet taking him there safely instead of bothering someone else with it. His free hand held under his nose as blood leaked through, trying to halt the bleeding, lines of red weaving down his forearm and dripping as drops to the deck as he takes agonisingly slow steps, the beads of blood marking his route. Alenko had even stumbled at one point, and James created a half thought in his mind to get up and help, already out of his seat on reflex, but the Major just about made it through the doors and Doctor Chakwas swooped down to mother him, clutching him and guiding him to the nearest bed where she began to fuss about with a sad shake of her head._   
  
_James isn’t certain how it would be like it this happens on the field, if an episode attacks Alenko while they’re doing something important, leaving them a man down because he’s suddenly incapable of providing them the same use, and a man like that watching his back, potentially needing to save his life, doesn’t make the Lieutenant feel any better, that he ponders if it’s up to him, he wouldn’t even use Alenko as a choice._

 

Bright, blue tendrils snake around his body, and Alenko is coiled, on the verge of unleashing tremendous amounts of destruction as he primes up, gathering the dark energy with his mind to spin them on their opponent. James struggles to contain his delighted cheers as he witnesses the Major’s biotics swirl, dangerously smashing through barriers and armours, twisting molecules and sending people scattering in terror, their screams echoing around enclosed spaces where Alenko splinters metal and snuffs out panicked gasps the next second as they hang helplessly, life force sucked out through their pores where they shake and convulse, unable to break free from the stranglehold. The rippling biotics blanket their surroundings in a hazy shimmer, until it explodes into blinding light when Shepard charges, her form disappearing in the blink of an eye and appearing the next in a massive destruction of azure, reckless rampage, crushing her opponents who even so much as threaten them, or worse, fire at the sentinel.  
  
Alenko’s biotics are unparalleled to anything James has ever witnessed before, the Major’s power going beyond the tangible, and yet, never once failing him when he needed it, golden eyes grinning back from behind his visor when Shepard charges directly into his held biotic field, working together like a well-oiled machine needing no manual to fall back into old habits. Alenko is a durable presence James can count on, and the Lieutenant knows his first judgement is wrong, an uncoordinated step back into discriminatory behaviour that comes with L2s, that he works hard to remove his foot stuck in that pile of preconceptions, choosing instead to acknowledge that the Major is much more than the piece of metal gradually burning up his brain.

 

 

  
**IV: Uptight**

  
  
_James doesn’t get it; the Major constantly looks serious, with serious eyes, a serious jaw, serious... shoulders, too, because that somehow manages to make sense in the Lieutenant’s head. If there ever was a poster boy for Alliance protocol, he’s sure they’d hit the nail with Alenko, someone who is constantly so proper and straight laced, so orderly and immaculate, a spotless face for a spotless persona. Alenko seems to do all the reports, probably does Shepard’s Spectre reports as well, taking the responsibility onto himself, not wanting to burden the Commander with more authorities breathing over her shoulder, pouring over the fine print and numbers delicately as he perpetually sits hunched over in the starboard observation room, staring intensely at his datapad because they hold all the answers for him._  
  
 _Even the way the Major walks looks extremely stiff, like he would combust into flames and disintegrate if he relaxed a little, laughed a little more openly instead of his usual dumb chuckling which has come to irritate James, his hands clasped daintily behind his back when speaking in the war room, voice droning on about mission parametres._ _‘’You got Alliance regs tattooed on your lame ass, Major?’’ James spits out without thinking once, mouth moving faster than his common sense can catch up, only to have it bounce harmlessly off Alenko, who coolly side steps the comment before continuing like it’s no issue for him, raising a hand to shush some of the senior crew. Senior crew, whose lips are already parted to no doubt tell James to fuck off, or at the very least, stare at him disapprovingly, because it’s becoming clear to him that almost everyone has taken a shining to the Major more than himself._ _Shepard, on the other hand, doesn’t find that funny enough to stay silent, bristling and turning an icy glower towards him, ‘’Watch that mouth of yours, Lieutenant,’’ her voice like shards of glass through paper, her look piercing through him as the no bullshit tone hits him smack on the face without halt. Of course, she of all people, wouldn’t have shrugged it off._  
  
 _James doesn’t get what Shepard even sees in Alenko, grousing internally to himself when he has the time to spare for some immature thoughts speeding through his skull, or when something pisses him off enough he can’t quite control. Sometimes, the Lieutenant catches Shepard just... gazing across the table at the Major when they think they’re alone in the mess hall with no one else hanging about, a soft smile playing on her face and lighting it up as if she can’t believe she managed to get a man like him, while Alenko remains completely oblivious, rambling on about some boring shit he’s reading off his datapad for her, whatever he finds exciting or amusing to share with the Commander._ _Other times, James catches Shepard sniggering at something funny Alenko says, but for the life of him, he cannot imagine what that could even possibly be, what the Major could have shot off his mouth that makes Shepard dissolve into an eye roll attached at the end of an affectionate prod._  
  
 _It doesn’t make a lick of sense to him, how a person like Shepard would fall for the Major, a cardboard style personality encompassing a similarly cardboard style face, so hard to believe what could by lying under that ridiculous hair bump and rigid expression, that James is tempted to rattle Alenko’s cage, shake him up a bit, because the man is so infuriatingly and tightly wound up for him to understand._

 

It starts out as a joke, James making a crack comment on how nobody on the _Normandy_ seem to even remotely have cooking skills other than himself, but Alenko shoots him a smiling glance, latching onto that statement and chuckling that wet, breathy way he always does, ‘’Oh, you’re on, Vega!’’ They both serve breakfast to the crew one fine, morning cycle, much to the amusement of everyone who make side glances at each other when they spot James and Alenko pushing side by side in the narrow preparation space behind the counter. Shepard, after teasingly warning them not to kill each other over their culinary skills, watches Alenko cook throughout, that same, dopey smile on her face that chisels itself in when it comes to the Major, trying to steal some food at the three quarter mark only to have Alenko smack her hand away with a hard spoon, leaving a mark on the Commander’s dark skin as he grumbles about how it isn’t ready yet. James holds back a laugh bubbling in his chest as he sees the Major knock Shepard one down, probably one of the few people on board brave enough to pull the move on her, and the Commander merely scowls at Alenko while moving away to knead her hand. Some of the braver crew hover around them and even ask questions, which the Major politely and enthusiastically answers, head bobbing and hands waving complicatedly all over the place as he tries to explain his methods, getting more and more pleased when people press him for deeper details like it’s a secret pleasure of his. James would rather die before admitting it to his face, but Alenko is good; Major Alenko can cook, and the Lieutenant muses in silence, _who knew, huh?_

It’s post-Rannoch that James really sits down with the sentinel for the first time. Alenko, whose always meticulously combed hair finally falls out of place, black strands curling over his ears, locks dangling on his forehead, who unbuckles the top strap of his uniform after James gets him to have a few drinks, and it forces the Lieutenant to do a double take, because Alenko is... surprisingly fun. Not exactly in the wild, party crazy kind of way, but deadpanned, snarky kind of way, that has even James snickering at some of his sillier moments despite himself, the Major’s happiness rather infectious and worming under the Lieutenant’s skin. The way Alenko rubs the back of his neck, or the way his eyes crinkle up when he actually laughs, head thrown back to release a raspy rumble, speech slurring and movements sluggish as the alcohol dulls his senses for him to troop out of his cautiously formed glass house, James can’t pin it down exactly yet, but it just feels...  _genuine_. Alenko pulls no punches, doesn’t brood or mope for a complicated guy as James is only starting to find out, and the Major is easy to be with, someone you know you don’t have to talk a lot with to have a meaningful conversation, putting the Lieutenant in a certain sort of serenity in the other’s aura.  
  
Shepard walks in on them for a while, and James thinks Alenko is going to call it then, get up and leave with her to retire for this ship cycle, but he doesn’t, staying where he is and determined to win back what he lost – _which he won’t_ , James snorts. The Commander stares at the Major’s rapidly dwindling pile, chips showing up on James’ side of the table, and she shakes her head, lips struggling not to break out into a gloat, ‘’Wow. That’s really sad, Kaidan.’’ Alenko rotates his head to her, brown eyes bright from the day’s events, frowning at his Commander peering at his cards over his shoulder, and he huffs in her direction, ‘’I’m really trying!’’ James turns back to his cards when he sees how they gaze at each other from the corner of his eyes, feeling too weird in his seat to witness this, to stare at them even though they’re being, and always are, anything but unprofessional around the crew.  _Love,_ the Lieutenant knows, simple four letter word carrying too much when it comes to them, that he finds it hard to sit there in their presence, their pull on each other too strong that he thinks he might fall into it clumsily in a mix of longing and envy _._  Shepard mockingly pokes Alenko in the bicep before shifting to leave, and the Major speaks out, ‘’Aren’t you going to wish me luck?’’

‘’Luck can’t help you now,’’ Shepard retorts back, her face pulled into the dorkiest smile, like she cannot contain Alenko within her chest, usually controlled emotions spilling onto her trademark stoic features as she grins while flicking her dancing eyes to the Lieutenant, ‘’Don’t be too hard on him, James.’’

‘’Wha- _Hey!_ ’’  
  
Alenko pouts a little, acting dramatically betrayed, but Shepard waves her arms away at him, already on her way out, and James finds himself smiling, chatting quite a bit now that the Major unwinds and opens (doesn’t matter if the drinks helped his case), revealing characteristics that makes James puff and raise his eyebrows in amusement, because seriously, _who the hell comments on the Citadel’s interior decor, anyway?_ What Alenko presents of himself is certainly unexpected, and James supposes he can gently come to figure out why Shepard sometimes looks at him like he’s the most important thing by far in the galaxy to her, the biggest chunk of the room in her heart taken up by this one man, supposes he can figure out in time why Shepard, the epitome of a decisive hardass, goes all googly eyes at Alenko when she thinks no one is watching, devotion written all across her face and heart on her sleeve when it comes to the Major, that it puts to shame all those mutterings about her being cold and aloof, because he has a front row seat to how that’s completely false.  
  
James sits opposite Alenko, chortling, watching his face twist into exasperation as he loses yet another round, his fingers dislodging more of his neat hair as he runs them through and scratches at his scalp distractedly, stubbornly refusing to lose even if the game is pretty much over. He realises that all the words he had in his head to fit Alenko have become inaccurate, brought about from hot headedness and quick conclusions based on his initial wrong intuitions, and James takes those words to bury them, because he’s going to have to come up with new ones for the Major, although, the Lieutenant’s still keeping _sucks at poker_  for now.

 

-

 


End file.
